Somehow it's not fair for life to force me to live by the same 60 second minute that you do.
Huh? The planes and trains won't run on time, you say.
Have you tried to fly out of JFK or LAX lately? Long ago, the planes stopped taking off on schedule. And I don't think they even make passenger trains anymore. So hush.
I think it violates my civil rights to be bound by the same metronome that governs your life. For example, when I'm in the dentist's chair, I want time to zip by. Fast. But when I'm at the opera, I want time to slow down and be delicious.
Which brings me to today's point. Turn to page one of the Source section in yesterday's Minneapolis Star Tribune. Or click here, but not if you are in a hurry. It's the slowest damn website I've ever encountered.
The story in tout is "Hurry up and pitch some woo" by Gail Rosenblum. It is a tender, funny, loving look at geriatric speed dating and is fraught with double meanings. (The headline, for example.)
You know fun is coming when a 98 year old woman on her walker gets off the elevator asking if this is the "waiting game." That's dating game, dear. But wait a minute (by my watch), maybe the old dame is pulling our legs. I think so. "Don't lead me into temptation," is her next utterance.
The five-minute smooze is popular among younger generations who still ooze pheromones, but this may be like the first flirt for the older set.
One woman declined to be identified or interviewed. "I don't want my children saying, 'You did what?'"
The deal worked better for some than others. Bill got several phones numbers but Ray announced to the group that he "wasn't interested in anyone."
Overall, the event worked. Proof? When one of the men returned to the party to ask for a ride home because it was raining outside, three women's hands flew up.
"Now, that," said one of them, "is dating."